Join or Die
by SeverinadeStrango
Summary: This is her band now. If you don't join you die. If you join and then desert, you die. Nothing less than perfect is accepted. Anything else will be eradicated. Perfect attendance, perfect technique, perfect form. All marchers shall remain undeniably loyal to Drum Major Gretchen. Because it's her band now.
1. Chapter 1

Join or Die…

By: SeverinadeStrango

Summary: This is her band now. If you don't join you die. If you join and then desert, you die. Nothing less than perfect is accepted. Anything else will be eradicated. Perfect attendance, perfect technique, perfect form. All marchers shall remain undeniably loyal to Drum Major Gretchen. Because it's _her band now._

Author's Note: This is a rather scary and grim story, it has been classified under _horror _for a reason. There are countless deaths, sadism, plenty of blood and all that good stuff. Yes, the Drum Major is a perfectionist to the limit :) Just know that you have been warned! Hehe. Now, enjoy!

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**Chapter One**

The band director, Mr. Wasserman, surveyed the tall girl in front of him and inwardly shivered.

_So this….__this __is to lead my band?_

She was towering, around six feet tall, had choppy black bangs that always covered her eyes, and a huge, creepy, demented grin that literally stretched ear-to-ear.

"Gretchen…well…congratulations….I'm certain you will make a _fine _drum major."

Actually, he wasn't certain. Far from it. It felt letting your own child go and explore the back alleys of Hollywood. And everyone knows what that leads to.

"I'm…..glad you think so…." She mumbled, setting her bag down on the band director's desk and dropping her arms to her sides, giving him a full view of her pink shirt, decorated with a panda. It was like one of those sickening _kawaii-desu _anime things that all the flutists were into these days. On the very bottom of the shirt, the words, _"Everyone gets my hug" _were inscribed.

It was scary. She giggled absentmindedly, a high-pitched, soft, eerie noise that seemed to reverberate throughout the dimmed office.

Peeling his eyes away, Mr. Wasserman turned around and lifted a hangar off of the uniform rack, handing it to her. He silently prayed she would take care of it. It had to be very specially made to fit her skeletal form; you couldn't just buy it off in general sizing. She immediately unzipped the plastic "storage bag" that was covering the uniform and reached in, letting the material slide between her fingers.

When she looked up, her band director had gotten out a shako-_with that fluffy thing, _she thought, and a long, sliver mace, the end coming to a sharp point.

If anyone could see her eyes through all that hair at that time, they would have sworn that they were glowing.

Reaching out as if in awe, she took the items, and without hesitation, slid the shako over her head so that it pinned her bangs to her eyes, pulling the strap underneath her chin. Gretchen then hefted the silver mace into her hands and spun it around, presumably trying to get a feel for it.

"I'm Drum Major now."

Mr. Wasserman looked up.

"Hm-? Oh…yes, Gretchen, you are." _Strange._ He turned back to the massive pile of music on his desk, ungracefully knocked over by Gretchen's bag, and began attempting to sort it into piles.

Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He was slammed back into the wall, his head hitting the tacks on the bulletin board. Gretchen had one, huge, spidery hand planted on his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get her off.

"_I said….._I'm Drum Major now." Her flashy white grin began to widen even more, if possible. The band director began to panic.

"Gretchen! I told you that already, now let me go! You know I could have you-" However, he was silenced by a powerful blow to his head, no doubt delivered by her other fist.

"Isn't the Drum Major…kind of like…..the leader of the band?" She mused, almost eagerly, like a fascinated young child.

"Yes….." He breathed, not knowing what to say, hoping he'd get out of this unharmed.

"That's what I thought!" She beamed, nodding her head eagerly. The feathers from her plume tickled his forehead. "Because…in that case…..we don't need you anymore!"

She placed her hands on his face, one huge, bony, appendage on either side of his head.

"Gretchen, what are you do-!"

She smiled. She twisted. He _snapped._

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**Yup. First death of tons more to come! Read and review, I love it when people give me feedback!**

**The next chapter will be up soon!**

**- Severina**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone, I'm baaaack! **

**Thank you for any reviews you all gave me! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you seemed to enjoy the last one!**

**WARNING: More death. I really doubt there will be a chapter _without _someone dying.**

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Chapter Two

Lily, a sophomore in marching band for the first time, trudged onto the football field, dangling her expensive professional-model clarinet from one hand. She didn't want to be here at all, it was around 90 degrees outside _and _on top of that the Drum Major, who she still hadn't seen yet, had _forced _them to show up in uniform.

She tried to adjust her jacket, make it a little less itchy or _something._ The attempt was to no avail.

As if that was not enough, the rest of the band started trekking in, each one of them contributing to a buzzing, chattering noise that was louder than anyone would think was possible. A few members of the low brass started fooling around, there were always some who did so. They were laughing and shouting loudly, one of the most daring ones making ridiculous sounds with their instrument and then running to avoid the shocked protests of their section.

It was a disaster.

"BAND-TEN-HUT!"

Lily and a few other woodwinds immediately snapped to the rigid position at the sudden command, shoulders back, feet together, eyes front, instrument upright.

However, they were the only ones that did so.

The Drum Major shouted again.

"I SAID! BAND-TEN-HUT!"

No change.

There was a soft thud as the Drum Major jumped down off the podium and walked over to the rowdy sections in the back. She passed by the flutes and clarinets, giving them a nod of approval.

Despite the rules of standing at attention, Lily found herself turning her head and craning her neck, trying to get a good view of the new Drum Major.

Gretchen flashed her signature demented ear-to-ear grin before turning around and approaching the sousaphones, currently the source of the problem.

Lily turned her head back, exchanging glances with the other clarinets.

No one had seen Gretchen before. Or heard of her. Or knew her. She just _showed up._

Just then, there was a sudden, wicked, spine-chilling _slice! _sound and several people behind the woodwinds screamed.

One of the sousaphone players, a tall, blond haired boy, had his mouth wide open in shock, blood running down his chin, staining his white uniform red. He let out a horrible gurgling sound, desperately trying to escape whatever had harmed him, before collapsing to the ground, the sousaphone making a loud _clang _as it fell. Something long and silver was sticking up from his fallen form.

Gretchen pulled her mace out of the boy's body, twirling it several times in an attempt to fling the blood off. The other band members were staring at her with a horrified look, frantically debating whether to run while they could, which would, of course, earn them a number one spot on Gretchen's blacklist, or to stay and maybe live a little while longer. She returned their desperate look with a smile.

"Oh, don't worry…" She purred, laughing softly, "He was far from perfect…..we don't need _another _sousaphone anyway."

Lily faced front and did not _dare _to move. Any who were standing at attention held their breath. All of them, pale faced, white knuckled, frozen in place for fear that _they were next._

Gretchen climbed back onto the podium and raised the blood-stained mace in the air, calling all eyes to her.

"Now. Let's try that again. BAND-TEN-HUT!"

"HUT!" The band snapped into attention, their faces blanched with fear. Gretchen smiled. One of the reasons she had tried out for Drum Major was for the power. And she _loved_ power. _After this little incident, _she thought, grinning madly, _they will definately obey me now._

Hopping off her podium yet again, she surveyed her band. Perfectly still. She walked past the flutes, staring at each of their faces, watching for eye movement.

She moved to the next section. And the next. So far, so good. Then-

"DON'T lock your knees!" A whistle as something was swung through the air, _probably the mace, _Lily thought, a sickening _crunch_, and a groan of some unfortunate member of the drumline getting the back of their knees blown to bits.

Several people whimpered, one person fainted, and two people screamed.

"GET UP AND SHUT UP!" There was the sudden sound of scrambling as the petrified band members raced to get back to the attention position.

"Good." She tapped her fingers against her mace, as if fingering notes. "Now that I have your attention…I can speak as I please." Climbing up on the podium, so that the entire band could see her towering form, her grin grew ever wider. "I am Drum Major Gretchen. You shall refer to me as that and that _only_. We are going to be PERFECT. If you don't understand, step forward and I shall make sure that you shall never make another mistake in your life."

As Gretchen said this, she raised one finger and drew it swiftly across her throat, mimicking the beheading motion.

No one moved.

"Excellent! I'm looking forward to having a _long _and _flawless _marching season with you…!"

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**So that's Chapter Two, let me know how you like it, pretty please! More death to come, if you have the stomach and the liking for it. I'll see you next chapter! Review! Hehee! *Holds out Gretchen's shako of doom for reviews***

**- Severina**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Sorry I've been gone...I'm trying really hard to keep up with everything! Hope you enjoy this!**

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**Chapter Three**

"…..and solo auditions will be held next Monday for Flute, Trombone and Bassoon. Dismissed!"

Regan exhaled in relief and bent down to retrieve her flute case, carefully taking apart the three solid silver pieces of her ten-thousand-dollar Yamaha flute.

It was the best flute one could possibly get.

It had helped her to become first chair in concert band and topple Irene, the arrogant brunette who had previously occupied it.

Now the only problem was the second-chair.

Although there had been no ties, Regan still couldn't shake the feeling that something was up.

Usually, the short burst of extreme rivalry between flutists died off a week after chair placement.

But not this time.

Casting a nervous glance towards the second chair flautist, she began to gather her belongings more hurriedly. Regan wanted to get away.

Gretchen had always scared her.

Regan knew nothing about the girl except that her name was Gretchen and she played the flute.

And that creepy grin she always had…..

And the way she was always staring Regan down with eyes hidden through hair…..even when they were learning a new piece, relying on reading the notes only….she would still be staring at her.

She shivered. That girl was up to something.

"Calm down…" She said, flexing her fingers to try and relax. "You're overreacting again…."

Assuming that she was talking about the solo tryouts, her friends immediately sent reassuring glances in her way.

Regan shook her head. How could they stay _sane_ playing next to that girl?!

Waving "bye" to the remainder of the flute section, she walked out, reaching for her phone in her back pocket. Thank goodness this was the last class of the day.

That's when it grabbed her.

Two white-gloved hands, seeming to come out of nowhere, seized Regan's face, wrapping long, bony fingers around her mouth and throat, cutting off all oxygen supply.

Her eyes bulged.

She struggled for air, for voice, for anything…..

Couldn't pry them _off_…..

Then _AIR…_

She stumbled, leaning against a wall as her vision slowly came back into focus, gasping for air.

In the storage room.

That's where she was.

The door was shut tightly. No one would be able to hear her.

Neither would they be able to hear _Gretchen._

"Hi!" Gretchen said, lightly waggling her fingers at Regan. "You seem to be a bit….dizzy….hehe…let me take this for you. Wouldn't want to drop it…." Reaching down, she pulled Regan's flute case from her hands, setting the instrument down on one of the shelves.

"My….flute! Hey..!" The first-chair flautist started for her instrument, but before she could cross the room, she was knocked over by a huge blow.

She hit the floor like a ton of bricks, sliding backwards several feet and coming to a stop against one of the walls.

"You're so tiny. Never would have made it marching. So either way….."

Gretchen climbed on top of the smaller girl, straddling her and pinning her down. She giggled lightly, pulling the white marching band gloves down harder over her long hands.

_Let me go! Someone has to notice….! This can't….be! It's all…..a bad dream!_

Regan had no voice. She couldn't scream. She couldn't speak. Gretchen had taken that all away.

"Get….off…."

_THWACK._

_THWACK. _

_THWACK. _

Fists landed. Blood splattered. Spit flew.

Left, right, left, right, left.

Just like marching.

Regan's mouth was open in an endless, bloody scream of terror and pain. With each blow the Drum Major landed, she could feel more of her skeletal structure shattering.

_THWACK. _

"Regan's had a terrible accident."

_THWACK. _

"You see, I'm sorry."

_THWACK. _

"She was such a fragile girl."

_THWACK. _Gretchen's white marching gloves were stained red. Yet not a single drop of blood made it to the pristine, tiled floor of the storage room. Gretchen had made sure of that.

"And so nice too….."

_THWACK. _

"A very good sport when it came to chair placement."

_THWACK. _

"But she never would have made it in marching band…."

_THWACK. _

"So unfortunate."

_THWACK. _The final blow.

Regan could not close her mouth; her jaw had been cleanly broken in half. Blood dripped down her throat. She didn't even have enough energy to gag.

Gretchen carefully pulled out an old, battered tuba case from one of the compartments. The coating on the outside had been torn horribly and the handles had popped off. It was scheduled to be trashed tomorrow. The tuba had been taken out and given another case.

She popped it open and lifted Regan's petite body in her arms, being careful not to get any blood on her white t-shirt. The limp form of the first-chair flautist slid easily into the case, her body folding to fit into the small space. Gretchen grinned as Regan looked up at her with desperate, horrified eyes before closing the case and snapping the latches shut.

The marching gloves went into the cleaning bag hanging off of her flute case. She would have to wash them. It wouldn't do to have so much blood on one's uniform.

"Well, goodbye, Regan!"

Regan's last vision would be the velvety interior of the tuba case, a broken bottle of valve oil _drip-drip-dripping, _mingling with her blood. Into her blood and her dead, dead eyes.

Gretchen picked up her flute and skipped out the door, before walking out the back of the school. Thank goodness this was the last block of the day.

She had a solo to practice for.

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**Ehehe! And there is more death to come at the solo auditions! **

**Review Please!**

**- Severina**


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